Memories
by White Wolf1
Summary: Robin and his men learn the hard way just how important memories are. NOTE: Some reviews contain spoilers.
1. Default Chapter

(I don't own the TV characters. I do own all the others---even the bad ones. No profit, just entertainment.)

MEMORIES

by White Wolf

Chapter One

The narrow road wound around, at times almost crossing over itself. Hardly anyone used it now for that reason. No travelers wanted to spend any more time in Sherwood than was absolutely necessary. They wanted to get through the forest as quickly as they could. It wasn't only the rich who were subject to robbery. Even the poorest traveler could be accosted by ruthless bandits.

This day, Robin was walking down that road at a leisurely pace. He was alone, admiring the new spring foliage and the constant melody of birdsong. He smiled to himself. There was no green quite as intense as Sherwood this time of year. It was a glorious day to be alive.

Robin was looking up into the trees on his left, when he rounded a bend in the road. There in front of him stood three men. He stopped, and immediately three more jumped from the trees behind him. He was surrounded. All of them had their swords drawn. Robin reached for Albion and prepared to defend himself.

The man that looked to be the leader was a particularly dirty, disgusting individual with a large scar running from his right eye down to his chin. It gave him an air of fierceness. He took an instant hatred of Robin, because he could tell that Robin was everything he wasn't.

The man, Gordon, was short and stocky with a pockmarked face, crooked blackened teeth and brown hair that was wispy thin on top. He also had cold black eyes. He glared at Robin who was tall, slender, with flawless skin, straight white teeth, thick shiny golden hair and intelligent blue eyes. Gordon was ugly and fast approaching middle age. Robin was handsome and young, and Gordon hated him for it. He also seemed to know Robin was good, which only added to his hatred. 

Robin saw the loathing in Gordon's eyes but didn't know the reason for it beyond the fact he looked as though he despised everyone. 

"You're going to die," Gordon snarled, the hatred in his black eyes seeming to intensify. To back up his words, he raised his sword and pointed it toward Robin's heart.

"I haven't any money," Robin replied calmly. He made no attempt to counter Gordon's move with his sword. He also made no attempt to antagonize this man with defiant words. He stood silently.

"Too bad for you. You'll die anyway." Gordon sneered, displaying his hideous teeth. It was evident several of them had rotted out, leaving unsightly, jagged gaps.

Robin was downwind of the men in front of him and when a breeze kicked up, their odor caused him to wrinkle his nose involuntarily in disgust. Living in the forest wasn't conducive to the best personal hygiene for anyone, but these men carried it to the extreme. He doubted any of them had been near a bath since childhood, if then.

Gordon, enraged by Robin's obvious distaste, suddenly lunged at him with his sword. Robin turned sideways, and the blade passed harmlessly in front of his chest. Robin swung Albion up, hitting Gordon's sword and pushing the blade upwards.

Following their leader, all the bandits began to attack at once. Robin fought valiantly for several minutes, cutting and slashing, holding them at bay. Robin received several minor cuts, but he moved too fast and was too accomplished a swordsman for these untrained bandits to get a good cut at him. He, in turn, delivered several cuts of his own, a few more than minor. But, no matter how good he was, the odds of six against one were just too great. He knew it was only a matter of time before they got the best of him. They knew it, too.

Soon one bandit was sitting on the ground, holding closed a large slash on his right thigh where Albion had bitten deep. He put a crude bandage on the wound with a torn piece of his dirty shirt. The others began to close in on Robin. He continued his fight, blade flashing. If he was going to die at the hands of these disgusting men, he would do it trying to take as many of them with him as he could.

Just then, one of the bandits called out, "Somebody's comin'."

For an instant Robin had the hope that it was his own men coming to his rescue, though that thought disappeared when he realized he wasn't overdue at camp, so they'd have no reason to be looking for him this soon. He fought on. At this point, even the Sheriff or Gisburne would be welcome.

Gordon realized he and his men wouldn't be able to get the best of this fair-haired swordsman before whoever was coming showed up. Having just had his sword deftly flipped from his hand, he picked up a rock while Robin's attention was focused on the two men directly in front of him, and with the added force of anger, slammed it down on the back of Robin's head, dropping him instantly. 

Gordon had seen the beauty of Albion and had designs on taking it. But, Robin had fallen on top of the sword with only the sharp blade showing. Gordon could hear the sounds of an approaching horse, so there wasn't time to roll Robin over and pull it free. With reluctance, he retrieved his own sword and called his men to head back into the trees. The man with the wounded leg was the last one to disappear from sight, receiving no aid from his retreating companions.

A wagon, leaden with several pieces of furniture and a pile of blankets rounded the bend from the same direction Robin had been coming from. It was being pulled by a large, brown horse. The animal was old but strong and plodded along, having no trouble pulling the heavy wagon. On the front seat sat a man and a young girl. Both were dressed like typical villagers, though they were relatively well kempt.

The wagon was almost even with Robin, when the man, sitting on the left, saw the outlaw leader lying on the grass at the edge of the road. He pulled the horse to a stop and jumped down. "Stay there, Aggie." He didn't want the girl to see what he might find when he turned the body over.

"Be careful, Father," the little girl urged from her perch on the wagon seat.

The man, Jeffery, approached cautiously but soon saw that this man would not be a threat. Now, it was only left to determine if he was alive or not. He gently turned Robin over on his back. He put his hand on Robin's chest and found a steady heartbeat. It was obvious Robin was also breathing. Jeffery visibly relaxed. This young man was alive and in need of help.

"Aggie, come down and help me. We need to get him in the wagon."

The girl, no more than twelve years old, climbed down. Her father, being a strong farmer, lifted Robin with relative ease and carried him to the back of the wagon as Aggie managed to push a chair over a few inches and then roll one of the blankets out along one side of the wagon bed. Between the two of them, Robin was laid down and covered with another of the blankets from the pile. He was able to be stretched out full length, though slightly on his side with his back hard against the sideboard, because the fit was very tight. Aggie had to climb over the seat back, since there was no way to get to the back of the wagon and jump down.

Jeffery picked up Albion. He briefly noted the runes written on its blade before slipping it under one of the chairs. He then got back on the seat and started the horse moving forward again. This time, though, the horse was urged into what was, for him, a fast pace. Jeffery slowed him down a bit when he saw that Robin was being jostled too much. The curves in the road also weren't going to allow much speed.

Aggie turned and looked down at Robin's still form. "What do you think happened to him, Father?"

"Bandits, most likely, though he doesn't look like he would've had much money. I don't believe Robin Hood and his men would have done this to anybody. Of course, if it was Gordon and _his_ cutthroats... They just like to kill. They must've left him for dead."

"I wonder who he is." Aggie stated with the curiosity of a child.

"We'll just have to wait and ask him when--if--he wakes up." Jeffery wasn't sure how badly Robin was hurt. His quick assessment hadn't shown more than a small amount of blood from several cuts, but there was nothing that would account for Robin being unconscious. 

Five minutes later, five other men left the trees and spread out across the road. Jeffery didn't recognize them, but wasn't about to challenge them even though they didn't look as mean as Gordon and his gang. A person's intent couldn't always be determined by how they looked.

A giant of a man held up his hand. "We mean you no harm, friend."

A portly man in monk's clothing came forward. "We're looking for someone."

Jeffery didn't say anything. First, he was going to give them a chance to reveal who it was they were after. 

"We're looking for a young man: tall, slender, with long golden hair and blue eyes. He wears a leather tunic with metal rings all over it," the big man said.

Jeffery fought the urge to glance back at Robin. He didn't let on that he was trying to decide what to do. These could have been the men who attacked his passenger, and now they might be hoping to make sure of their kill. He wasn't willing to risk the helpless man's life on an uncertainty. Time enough later to sort out who he is and why these men wanted him.

"I haven't seen anyone like that around here," Jeffery replied calmly. "Not too many come this way."

"Then, why did you?" a surly looking man with close-cropped hair asked in a less than friendly tone.

"If there aren't many travelers, there won't likely be many bandits, either. Was I wrong to come this way?" Jeffery asked boldly, his implication clear.

"No. We aren't here to rob you," the giant said. "You can go on your way." 

Jeffery knew all the stories of Robin Hood, of course. By now almost everyone in England did. He remembered there was a large man they called Little John in the group. This could well be him. And, yes, there was a friar, too. Jeffery saw no one that looked as though he could be Robin Hood himself. He wasn't about to ask, though. They had told him to leave, and that's exactly what he intended on doing.

John and the others stepped back off the road. Jeffery started the horse moving and drove by them. Robin passed within three feet of John, but even at his height, he couldn't see into the bottom of the wagon. He never knew Robin was within his reach.

The outlaws looked at each other. John shrugged and headed down the road in the opposite direction. They weren't concerned about Robin. They had just decided to meet up with him so they could all go back to camp together. It was not yet time to start worrying. They weren't sure just when Robin would be coming this way, so they would continue and hope they would run into him soon.

"They didn't act mean, and they didn't try to rob us," Aggie remarked when they were well clear of the men on the road. She hadn't been frightened of these men the way she had been of Gordon and his gang the first time they had stopped her and her father. "Maybe, they're his friends," she said as she nodded back toward Robin.

"Maybe, but we don't know for sure. I think that may have been Robin Hood's men, but I can't be sure of that, either. If I'm wrong, I wouldn't want to give them the chance to hurt him more or kill him. If they're the ones who did this, they would surely kill us, too." Jeffery explained his thoughts to his brave daughter. She had never flinched or given any indication of fear, and he was proud of her. "You did good, Aggie."

The young girl smiled as the wagon continued down the twisting road. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Jeffery, Aggie and their injured passenger left Sherwood far behind. It took several hours of travel before they reached their home on the outskirts of the village of Ashton. When they pulled up in front of the modest little cottage, Jeffery jumped down and went around to the back of the wagon.

"Aggie, help me unload this furniture. It'll be easier to get our friend here out."

Aggie was of normal size for a girl her age, yet as someone who worked along side her father on the farm, she was deceptively strong. With little trouble, she helped her father take four chairs, a table, a dresser, and a small cupboard out of the wagon and move them into the house. They pushed them in the corner near the fireplace, not taking the time to arrange them in any kind of order. Their top priority was to get the injured man into bed and properly see to his wounds.

Jeffery climbed into the back of the wagon and slid Robin down as far as he dared. Then, he got down and lifted him into his arms. Effortlessly, he carried him into the house. Aggie had already pulled the cover down on her father's bed. She knew Robin was too tall to fit into her own smaller bed.

After taking Robin's boots, belts and tunic off, Jeffery began a more comprehensive examination. His original assessment seemed to be holding. There were only minor wounds.

When Jeffery finished, he told Aggie to bring him a bowl of water and some clean cloths. 

"What did you find, Father?"

"Pretty much what I suspected. He has a few small cuts and a few bruises. The unconsciousness is most likely caused by the bump I found on the back of his head. Head wounds can be tricky, but he should come to before long---I hope. There was no bleeding, probably because of his thick hair. It must have kept the skin from being cut."

Between them, Jeffery and Aggie cleaned the blood from the various cuts. Only one, on Robin's left forearm, needed to be bandaged. When they finished, Jeffery pulled the cover up around Robin's shoulders. He and his daughter were prepared to wait until their guest woke up.

An hour later, he did.

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin groaned and began the long journey to consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was the pain in his head. The second thing was the smell of stew that drifted toward him. He opened his eyes and waited while they focused. He looked up into the smiling face of Jeffery, who had gone over to the bed when he heard the groan.

"Glad to see your eyes open. I was beginning to get worried."

Robin frowned as he searched Jeffery's face. He didn't know this man. He didn't know where he was, a fact he confirmed when he surveyed the room he was in and the bed he was lying on. 

Jeffery saw the unspoken questions. "My name is Jeffery, and you are in my home in Ashton."

Robin tried to sit up in the bed but a wave of dizziness hit him and forced him to stop and groan again.

"Let me help you," Jeffery offered. He helped Robin to sit up and then plumped the pillow against the headboard so Robin could lean back on it comfortably.

"Ashton?" Robin asked.

"You don't know it?"

"I've heard of it." Robin replied. "It's north of Derby, isn't it?"

Jeffery nodded. "What's your name?"

"I'm Robert of Huntingdon."

"Huntingdon? As in Huntingdon Castle?"

"Yes. The Earl is my father." There was no haughtiness in his voice. He was simply replying to the man's question.

Jeffery had a puzzled look on his face. What was the son of the Earl of Huntingdon doing in Sherwood Forest dressed the way he was? Jeffery was curious, but he didn't think it was something he should question this man about. It was none of his business. Instead he asked, "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Robin frowned. "I was attacked by bandits in a forest. I fought them the best I could, but there were six of them. That's all I remember. I don't recall why I was in that forest."

"You got a nasty bump on your head, so it's not surprising you don't remember too much. It'll probably come back to you after a while."

"You're awake!" Aggie said as she walked in the front door and saw Robin propped up in the bed talking with her father.

Jeffery held his hand out toward the little girl and put has arm around her shoulders when she reached his side. "This is my daughter, Aggie. She helped me bring you here."

Robin smiled at the pretty little girl. He held his hand out. Aggie, normally not shy, reached out somewhat timidly. Robin held it gently. "I'm very glad to meet you, Aggie. Thank you for your help. I owe both of you so much," he said, looking first at Aggie and then at Jeffery. 

"This is Robert," Jeffery told the girl, not going into an explanation of who he was. 

"I'm glad to meet you, Robert." Aggie, despite the poor circumstances of her upbringing, had been taught to be polite to her elders. "Do you feel better?"

"I have a bit of a headache," Robin answered, trying to minimize the extent of the throbbing, "but I'll be fine, again thanks to the two of you." He turned a dazzling smile on the little girl. Aggie felt her face flush with warmth and couldn't help blushing even more because of it. 

"I've made some stew," the girl announced, quickly changing the subject. She wasn't used to feeling this self-conscious.

"I knew I smelled something wonderful when I first woke up."

"Aggie's quite the little cook. She learned from her mother, who could take the most meager fare and turn it into a feast. Aggie not only takes after her; she looks just like her, same honey-colored hair, same blue eyes, same turned up nose."

Aggie smiled and turned her head away in embarrassment. She remembered how beautiful her mother was.

"Where is your wife?" Robin asked.

"Katherine died two years ago of fever." Jeffery had a wistful look on his face as he spoke. It was clear to Robin that Jeffery had loved her very much and still felt her loss deeply.

Robin was older than Aggie when his mother died, but he remembered the pain of that loss. He still missed her. "I'm sorry."

Jeffery nodded in acknowledgment. He looked at Robin, "Let's eat some of that stew, Robert. You'll be pleasantly surprised." The love and pride in Jeffery's voice was unmistakable.

Aggie filled a bowl with the aromatic stew and took it to Robin, who, after a few bites, was more than surprised. He couldn't believe that this little girl had cooked a meal so good. "You did this by yourself?"

Aggie grinned and nodded.

"She sure did," Jeffery confirmed, again with pride. "It's a wonder I'm not as big as this house."

Robin had found someone who could cook stew good enough to rival Tuck's. He wanted to eat more of it than he was able to. His headache was making his stomach feel a bit queasy. Even so, he did manage to empty most of the bowl. "It's wonderful, Aggie." 

Aggie found herself blushing again. She turned quickly and began to take the dirty bowls away to be cleaned.

Jeffery said, "You need to get some sleep. You'll likely feel a lot better in the morning."

"I hate to take your bed," Robin said, "Where will you sleep?"

"I'll make a pallet on the floor by the fire. I've done it before. It's really not uncomfortable."

Robin nodded. He was much more tired than he had realized. His head also was pounding and making him feel a bit dizzy. His remark about taking Jeffery's bed was more out of politeness than anything else. He didn't think he could've gotten up if he tried.

Jeffery helped him move down in the bed so he could lie flat. Robin said goodnight, pulled the covers up around his neck, closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.

* * * * * * * * * * 

"Where could he be?" Will asked for the tenth time in less than half an hour.

John looked hard at his friend. "I don't know the answer any more now than I did the first time you asked." His voice was tinged with exasperation both at Will and at the situation. He didn't admit that he was asking the same question to himself just as often.

Will shook his head. He and the others were starting to get worried. They had checked every inch of the road and then the trail that Robin was supposed to take back to camp. There was no sign of him. 

They had come back down the road and found some fresh blood near where they had seen the wagon with the man and the little girl, but nothing else. 

John looked at Nasir as he knelt and checked the ground yet again. The Saracen shook his head. There were too many tracks to be positive about anything. "A fight."

"That's clear enough," Will said sarcastically. "So, what happened?"

"Nasir's a tracker not a seer," Tuck pointed out.

Will scowled at the friar but didn't say anything further.

Much was staring down at the blood on the grass. "You don't think..." he couldn't bring himself to say the words as his mind rebelled at the thought.

"No!" John said quickly. His face softened when he looked at Much. "Robin's all right. He wasn't involved in this."

"We don't know that," Will pointed out. He ignored John's warning look. "Well, we don't," he insisted.

Tuck asked Nasir, "Do you see Robin's footprints anywhere?"

Nasir nodded, dashing John's and Will's hopes. "He came from that direction." He pointed east. "They stop here." He pointed to the ground. "Then, nothing."

"What about that wagon we saw?" John asked, remembering that they had stopped it to ask about Robin.

Nasir shrugged. "It came by after the fight. The wheel tracks cover the footprints." 

"Then, Robin could have been picked up and taken away by the people in the wagon," Tuck reasoned.

"It was full of furniture," Will reminded him. "There wasn't room for anybody."

"Maybe," John said. "If not that, then where did Robin go? If so..."

"We follow the wagon," Will finished as he looked up at John.

John grinned, although it wasn't a happy grin. He was glad to be doing something besides going around in circles. They still didn't know whether their deduction was correct, but at least they had a goal to aim for. John prayed that Robin would not only be at the end of their search, but that he'd be safe. Logic dictated that the man and the little girl wouldn't have taken Robin if he'd been dead. Of course, the flip side of that was that if Robin hadn't been hurt, he wouldn't have been in the wagon in the first place. John shook his head. If Robin was hurt, he hoped his friend was being well cared for. 

With Nasir in the lead, the outlaws started off in the direction the wagon had been heading. They each refused to believe that the whole journey ahead could be a waste of time. 

When darkness fell, they reluctantly moved off the road and made camp. The journey would continue at first light.

Continued --


	2. Chapter Two

MEMORIES by White Wolf 

Chapter Two

Robin opened his eyes and blinked from the shaft of sunlight that was shining in the open window and hitting him across the face. He moved his head to avoid the intense light. When the room around him came into focus, he remembered where he was and everything that had taken place the night before. He reached up and touched the bump on his head. He was relieved to find that it didn't seem to be quite as big this morning. Maybe, that was just wishful thinking, but he preferred to think he was right.

Jeffery was standing near the fireplace, folding a blanket. He glanced toward the bed and smiled. "Good morning, Robert," he said cheerfully. "How do you feel?"

Robin didn't answer at first. He was concentrating on his head, trying to decide if the aching had lessened since last night. "Better," he said, as he concluded the pain was now more of a dull throb than anything else. He knew it would most likely be another day or two before the pain left him completely.

Robin sat up cautiously and pushed the covers back. He swung his feet around and put them gently on the floor. The move didn't seem to cause any additional aches or pains.

"Do you think you should be getting up just yet?" Jeffery asked.

"I'm all right," Robin told the concerned man. "Did you sleep well on that pallet?"

"Just fine. It was nice and warm by the fire."

Just then, Aggie came in the door carrying a bucket of water. "Hello, Robert," she greeted, when she saw him sitting on the side of the bed.

Robin smiled at the little girl. "Good morning, Aggie." When she set the bucket down, Robin asked, "Aggie, would you please hand me the rest of my clothes and my boots?"

When Aggie handed Robin his boots, belt, and tunic, he frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Jeffery had noticed the expression. 

"These boots aren't mine. And, this _definitely _isn't mine," Robin said as he held the leather tunic up in front of him. He then looked down at the shirt and pants he was wearing, really noticing them for the first time. "I can't take your clothes, Jeffery. Mine may be dirty or torn, but I can still wear them until I get home."

"Those aren't mine. You were wearing them when we found you. They must be yours."

"I wouldn't wear something like this," Robin said before he thought. He looked at Jeffery apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Instead of being offended, Jeffery laughed. "Don't worry. If I was the son of an Earl, I wouldn't wear that, either."

Robin also laughed and then looked closely at the clothes. 'Why would I be wearing this?' he asked himself. He wasn't about to make that comment out loud, even if Jeffery didn't seem to be offended at the implication of his earlier remark.

He pulled on the boots, which fit his feet perfectly. In fact, they felt very comfortable as he stood up. He didn't quite trust his balance yet, so he didn't take the few steps he normally would have to better check out the feel of the boots. He slipped the tunic on, and when he pulled the belt around his waist and fastened it where the indention in the leather indicated the buckle normally rested, it, too, fit perfectly. Robin stared down at the belt as if half expecting it to explain itself. 

The frown stayed on Robin's face. At first, he thought maybe one of the bandits had switched clothes with him. But, that made no sense. Why would a bandit in the forest want to wear aristocratic finery? He would likely want to sell them for whatever he could get. Besides, if Robin had been left for dead, the bandits would've simply left him naked by the road, not put clothes back on him. 

"It looks good on you, Robert," Jeffery commented. He didn't want to insult this highborn young man, though he didn't seem to be anything like the other Norman lords Jeffery had occasion to observe. "Sort of natural, if you don't mind my saying so." 

Robin had to agree, at least to himself. The entire outfit was not only comfortable, it felt---right. That made no sense, either. He had never seen these clothes before. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that they _belonged_ on him.

"One more thing," Jeffery said, holding up his forefinger. He left the house, and when he returned, he had a sword in his hand. "This was lying under you, when we found you. I almost forgot that I had put it in the wagon after we got you in it. Do you recognize it?"

Robin took the sword from Jeffery's hand and held it up. He saw the name Albion etched near the hilt and runes along the length of it. "I know the name Albion. It's what England used to be called a long time ago. I don't know why that name's on this sword, though. I also have no idea what these runes could mean." He looked at Jeffery. "You say this was lying under me?"

Jeffery nodded. "I don't think it belonged to the bandits, at least not if they were Gordon's gang. They try to sell everything they get their hands on. I'm sure they could get a good price for a sword like that. They're bloodthirsty cutthroats," he added. His hatred of those people spilled out unchecked.

"They must have stolen it from someone else and hadn't had the chance to sell it yet," Robin reasoned.

"Where's your sword, then?"

"Good question. Maybe, it was lost during the fight, and you just missed seeing it." Yet, Robin couldn't dispell the feeling the sword felt right in his hand. It was as hard to understand as the clothes, since he had also never seen this blade before. As an accomplished swordsman, he couldn't help but admire its simple beauty and perfect balance.

Jeffery smiled as he held up a black leather scabbard belt and a knife. "This was around your waist."

Robin took a deep breath and stared in recognition. "This_ knife_ is mine. My father gave it to me on my fifteenth birthday." This was all getting to be quite a mystery. It was a mystery he not only wanted, but needed, to solve. He just wasn't sure he knew where to start. He sat back down on the bed with a look of bewilderment. He rubbed his head where the knot was. He didn't really believe the blow he had received had anything to do with his current confusion.

Jeffery misunderstood the move and thought that Robin had sat down because he was feeling bad again. "You should probably rest some more. You really took quite a blow on your head."

"I'm sure you're right. Of course, if you ask my father, he'll quickly tell you that my head is the best place to hit me, because it's so hard." Robin laughed but it wasn't a humorous sound. "My father says I'm the most stubborn person he's ever known." There was an underlying sadness in the statement.

Jeffery didn't pursue the details of those remarks. He knew there was something much deeper than what appeared on the surface, but as before, this was none of his business.

Robin looked up and offered a slight smile. He decided to change the subject. "I noticed all that furniture crowded in the corner. Can I help you load it in the wagon?"

"Oh, no. Those just came out of the wagon. Aggie and I were bringing them from my brother's place. He makes furniture. Ours are a bit on the worn side, as you can see. We've been asked to give them to a family whose house burned in a neighboring village."

"Then, let me help you move yours to the wagon."

"You shouldn't be trying to move furniture," Jeffery scolded his guest. "I can manage later with Aggie's help. You really do need to take it easy for a while."

"I want to do _something_ to repay you for what you've done for me. You saved my life."

"You don't owe us anything. We were happy to help," Jeffery said genuinely. "Seeing you recovering is payment enough."

Robin's headache was beginning to get worse, so he didn't try to insist. Truth be told, he felt like crawling back in the bed and going back to sleep. He was sure Jeffery would tell him to do just that, if he knew how Robin really felt. But, Robin had no intention of disrupting these good peoples' lives any further, although Jeffery and Aggie seemed happy enough to have him there. 

"I need to start for home," Robin said, changing the subject yet again.

"You certainly can't walk all the way back to Huntingdon." Jeffery said. "The only horse we have is Lancelot out there, but we'll be happy to take you in the wagon."

"Oh no, Jeffery, that's much too much to ask of you, especially after all you've already done."

"You didn't ask. I offered." He saw Robin shaking his head. "If you try to walk home, you'll undo all the progress you've made, and you'll end up lying by the road again." Jeffery saw that Robin had opened his mouth to say something, so he quickly added, "We'd just worry about you. Let us ease our minds and take you home."

"Please?" Aggie asked. "We'd love to go with you."

"How can I argue with a plea like that? All right, you win." Robin laughed. Inwardly, he was rather relieved. He really didn't want to put these kind people out, but he also didn't believe he would make it home on his own any more than Jeffery did. 

That decision, though perfectly logical at the time, would end up costing a lot of people a lot of worry and aggravation. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Earlier that morning, the outlaws woke up, ate a quick, cold breakfast, and were on the road by the time the eastern sky began to glow the golden color of a new day. It would be a while before the sun rose enough to begin warming the air, but the five men who were following the wagon track didn't give that a thought. Their sole focus was on finding their friend and making sure he was all right.

The journey was begun in silence. No one wanted to voice their fears, and trying to pretend there was nothing wrong was out of the question. They knew by now something was _very _wrong.

Finally, Much had to ask, "What if the people in the wagon didn't find Robin?"

"Then, lad, we'll keep searching," John answered, not wanting to think about the alternative.

Will, to no one's great surprise, wasn't in a very good mood. "We shouldn't have let him go off by himself," he grumbled.

John stared at Will. "Just how do you think we should've stopped him? Tied him up?"

"He's a grown man, Will, and our leader," Tuck pointed out. "We can't tell him what to do."

"No, but..." Will stopped, not sure just what he was intending to say. Then, in exasperation, he blurted out, "He's Robin Hood! He's always in danger, and...well, he just shouldn't be going off by himself!"

"We're outlaws, Will. _All_ of us are always in danger," Much reminded the exasperated Scarlet.

"You know what I mean," Will retorted. "He went off alone, and now, look what's happened."

"We'll find him," Nasir said confidently. 

"Yeah, but in what condition?" Will mumbled barely above a whisper, though everyone clearly heard it. No one commented, because no one wanted to think about what the answer might be.

They continued to follow the wagon tracks all the way to the village of Ashton. Nasir brought everyone to a stop in front of a small farm cottage. 

John approached the front door cautiously. He knocked, and when he got no answer, he stuck his head inside and looked around. He shook it when he turned to the others. "No one home."

They looked all around but saw no one in the nearby field. There was also no wagon and no horse to be found. 

"Well, where are they?" Will asked, exasperation again creeping into his tone.

John looked at Nasir. "Are there wagon tracks leading away from here?" 

The Saracen nodded. "Fresh ones, heading southwest."

"Huntingdon's that way," Tuck said. 

Much suddenly had a stricken look on his face. "You don't think they took Robin home because...?"

"He's not dead!" Will almost shouted. He gave Much an angry look for even trying to suggest such a thing. The look served to mask his own fear, since the same thought had also occurred to him.

With a sigh from Tuck, an unintelligible mumble from Will and a shrug from John, the group began making its way southwest toward Robin's ancestral home, Huntingdon Castle.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the wagon's passengers finally reached Huntingdon lands, it was late afternoon. There was still a way to travel before they reached the castle itself. Robin found himself getting more anxious as the miles passed under the wagon wheels. 

When his home finally came into view, long before they reached it, Robin smiled at the sight. The smile remained all the way to the entrance to the familiar gray stone castle.

Jeffery did his best not to show awe at the sheer size of the place. Aggie couldn't keep from staring. They had seen castles before, but knowing this was the home of a friend made it seem more impressive. This would be the first time either of them had ever been inside a castle. 

As the wagon slowly made its way across the bridge, a soldier started to stop them, no doubt to inquire about their business, but seeing Robin, he moved back out of the way. He waved them through, and the wagon and its passengers passed under the portcullis into the courtyard.

Jeffery pulled up in front of a large polished oak door at the top of several stone steps on the right. He noticed the stares of most of the dozen or so people still working in the gathering shadows of the courtyard. They had stopped their activities when the wagon had entered. He thought that strange since they surely saw all manner of people coming and going in a castle like this. Even an old wagon with an old horse shouldn't have attracted more than a brief curious glance, if that.

'Of course,' Jeffery thought. 'How often does the Earl's son come riding in on such a conveyance, dressed like one of them?'

As Robin got down from the wagon, he looked up at the towering battlements that soared high above him, their tops still glowing in the last of the golden sunshine. He smiled, remembering when he was a boy. "Do they reach all the way to the sky, Father?" "Yes, Robert. they reach all the way to the sky." He had believed that for a long time, until his Uncle Edgar had scoffed and told him it wasn't true. 

Robin was suddenly hit by the same feeling he always had when returning home after a long absence. He shouldn't be feeling this way. He had only been gone for two days! Robin sighed. It was just one more thing that didn't make sense and was duly added to the growing list in the confusing mystery that had engulfed him since he had first awakened in Jeffery and Aggie's home.

Robin looked around and frowned. One of the stable boys should have been waiting to take care of the horse and wagon.

He spotted one of the boys he knew worked in the stables. "James," he called to the boy, who was about 12 years of age. "Come here." 

James, though puzzled at seeing Robin here, didn't hesitate. He ran over and stopped in front of the blond man. "Yes..." there was just the tiniest pause before he said, "m'lord?"

Robin was not one to scold a servant over what he considered a minor infraction, especially in front of others. Yet, he still had to let the boy know he had fallen down in one of his duties. "You saw us coming?" he asked sternly, though not harshly.

James lowered his head, knowing he had been caught lacking. "Yes, m' lord."

Robin had to fight to keep from smiling. He truly felt for the boy. "And, what should you have done?"

"Come here straight away and taken the horse's bridle, m' lord."

"Very good. Now, you won't fail to do that next time, will you?"

"No, m' lord," James said in a promising tone as he looked up at Robin. He added, "Never again, m' lord."

This time Robin did smile. He put his hand on the boy's head and tousled his already unruly brown hair. He nodded toward the horse, and James was at Lancelot's head in an instant, holding the bridle firmly. The boy was rewarded with a soft nicker and a lick on his hand from the horse's large, wet tongue.

A smile still on his face, Robin turned and offered his hands up to Aggie to help her down. Her eyes briefly met James' before Aggie turned away with a slight blush as her father climbed down beside her. 

Robin smiled again. "Come. I want you to meet my father."

"He's not here, Robert," an elderly, though vigorous-looking, man said as he came down the steps. "He's in Lincolnshire, visiting the Duke. He won't be returning until next week."

"I didn't know he was planning a trip there, or anywhere really. He didn't mention it." Robin noticed the puzzled look on the man's face. "What is it, Martin? Is something wrong?" Robin asked with concern.

Martin recovered quickly. "I'm just surprised to see you here."

"I know I should have been back two days ago, but.." he paused. "We can talk about that inside. First, I'd like you to meet Jeffery and his daughter, Aggie. They saved my life day before yesterday." He turned to his new friends. "This is Martin, my father's steward and the man who truly runs Huntingdon."

Martin did not offer his hand, but he did smile and nod to the man and the little girl. "I think it's best if you come inside, Robert. You never know who might be watching." He knew, though, that word was already spreading throughout the castle; the Earl's son, the outlaw Robin Hood, was here.

The four people, led by Martin, walked up the steps and entered the castle. Robin had picked up on the curious statement about people watching. He would definitely have to ask Martin what _that_ was all about.

Jeffery and Aggie took notice the huge tapestries that hung on some of the walls and the various silver goblets, and gold candle holders that adorned the rich, wooden tables. All the pieces of furniture were solid and heavy. Candles burned everywhere in the rooms they passed, while small torches burned in sconces along the halls.

At last, Martin entered a room and stood aside as Robin, Jeffery and Aggie walked in. This room contained a long table with chairs all around it. Judging by the relatively small size of the room, Jeffery decided it must be a family dining room. There were paintings on these walls, as well. Only here they were of animals rather than people. The sun had just set, so all the candles on the two large sideboards sitting on either side of the table were lit.

"Please sit," Robin said to Jeffery and Aggie. "Martin..."

"I'll have dinner sent right away," the steward said, anticipating Robin's request. He had been working for the Earl since before Robin was born, so he knew the young man as well as anyone and was good at anticipating his wishes. Robin used to laugh and say that Martin knew what he wanted before he, himself, did.

"You have a fine home, Robert." Jeffery said, though he suddenly felt embarrassed after he said it. This was a huge, beautifully furnished castle. Of course, it was a fine home. Even the King himself would be comfortable living here.

"Thank you, Jeffery," Robin said with pride but with no hint of conceit.

Martin had disappeared into the hall to summon a servant and give him the order for dinner. When he returned, he was frowning.

"What is it, Martin? Are we out of food?" It was obviously meant to be a joke, but Martin didn't laugh or even smile. That made Robin look intently at him. Martin usually had a good sense of humor.

The steward sat down across from Robin and regarded him. "It's as I thought. Word of your being here is all over the castle. The servant that was just here asked if it was really true."

Robin was clearly confused. "I live here, Martin. These people see me every day. Why on earth would that be worthy of talk? I don't understand. Nor do I understand your earlier comment about being watched." He looked to Martin to explain. 

It was now Martin's turn to be confused. He stared at Robin. "Well, when the famous outlaw, Robin Hood, shows up after two years, it causes talk."

If Robin was confused before, he was fairly flabbergasted now. His jaw dropped open. Finally, he roused himself. "Robin Hood is _here_? At _Huntingdon_? How? Why?"

Martin stared even harder at the golden-haired young man he had helped to raise. He loved Robin like a son, never having had any himself. Had they been alone, he would have greeted him with a hug. With Jeffery and Aggie present, even though they were clearly of the lower class, he kept his decorum.

"Martin?" Robin asked, when the steward did not immediately answer. His brow furrowed. "There's something more going on here than the unlikely presence of an outlaw, even a famous one, here at Huntingdon, isn't there?"

Martin had long since ceased to be amazed at how mentally nimble Robin was. He had been very precocious as a child, and his sharpness had only grown over time. Martin glanced at Jeffery, who, at that second, was looking at Aggie. Robin knew exactly what Martin's glance meant. "We can discuss this after dinner," he said. More cheerfully, he added, "Right now, I think we're all hungry."

Martin stood up and went to the door in answer to a knock. When he opened the door, several servant boys stood with large trays leaden with food. They began placing the trays on the table.

Robin looked at Jeffery and then at Aggie. "I can't promise either of you anything better than your wonderful stew, Aggie. But, I hope you'll enjoy what we have to offer."

Jeffery tried not to stare. He hadn't seen this much food short of a village feast. There was roast pork, fowl of some kind, various vegetables, both cooked and raw, two kinds of bread, fruits, some that Jeffery didn't recognize, cheeses, a large bowl of fresh churned butter, and two tankards, one of ale and one of water.

Aggie was about to ask how many other people were going to be eating with them, when she decided it wasn't polite to ask such a question. She was a guest in Robin's home. Her father had taught her it was best to keep quiet when not in familiar surroundings and only speak when spoken to. It was hard to do, since she felt comfortable with Robin. There was so much she wanted to ask him. Maybe, they would have the chance later to talk.

Martin left Robin and his two guests to enjoy their dinner. He took his leave, saying he had castle business to attend to before he could stop to eat. He promised to return.

Robin laughed when he saw Jeffery looking at all the food in front of the two men and the girl.

"I think the cooks thought we were having a feast." He was almost embarrassed. He didn't want Jeffery or Aggie to think he was trying to show off by demonstrating how much food the castle could summon up to feed just three people. "We don't eat like this every day." 

Jeffery thought to himself, 'We don't eat like this _any_ day.' He could see that Robin felt awkward, so he said in a deliberately humorous tone, "Maybe, we should save your life more often."

The laughter got things back on a more familiar footing. They all tried hard, but barely put a dent in the amount of food there was. The various dishes looked almost as full as when they were first brought in.

As if answering a summons, Martin returned exactly as they finished the very last bite they each could get down without exploding. To Jeffery he said, "Your horse has been fed and bedded down in the stable and the wagon put away. There's a servant outside who will show you to your rooms, when you're ready."

Robin would talk to Jeffery later about him and Aggie possibly staying several days, though he doubted they would. "I'll see you in a couple of hours, Jeffery, after you and Aggie have had time to rest a while."

Jeffery nodded and shook Robin's hand. "Until later, then."

After his friends left the room, Robin turned to his father's steward. "Well, Martin, you can explain everything while you eat your dinner." He sat down and waited for Martin to do likewise. 

Martin recognized the all too familiar look of stubborn determination on Robin's handsome young face. He knew eating dinner and offering an explanation was all that Robin was going to settle for. With a sigh, the older man sat down to do both.

Continued --


	3. Chapter Three

MEMORIES by White Wolf

Chapter Three

Martin filled his plate, but before he took the first bite, he asked, "Robert, tell me why you came here today?"

"This is my home, Martin. Where else should I have gone? More to the point, why are you asking me that question?"

Martin knew Robin didn't like to stall when his mind was made up about something. Robin wanted answers, so he decided to just jump in and see what happened. "You haven't lived here for two years, Robert," He hesitated before saying, "or perhaps I should call you Robin, now?"

The look Robin gave the Huntingdon steward was almost comical. If Martin had grown another head right in front of him, the look wouldn't have been any different.

"I haven't lived here in two years," Robin stated flatly. "And, you think you should call me Robin. Martin, have you fallen on your head?'

"No, but I think _you_ must have." Martin said it, not having the slightest notion that his idea was very close to the truth. "_Have_ you hit your head lately?" The question was asked in all seriousness.

"I was attacked by bandits two days ago. I told you that Jeffery and Aggie saved my life. They're the ones who found me and took me to their home."

"That's it, then. A blow to the head must have somehow caused you to forget your recent life." Unable to eat until he had gotten the story out, Martin pushed his plate away and looked intently at Robin. He began to explain all he knew of the life of Robin Hood.

There was a long, stunned silence. Robin knew Martin didn't lie. Yet, how could he possibly believe such a fantastic story? He, Robert of Huntingdon, the son of the Earl, was the infamous outlaw, Robin Hood, and had been living in Sherwood Forest with other outlaws for the past two years. "Not possible," was the only comment Robin could make.

"It's not only possible, Robert. It's true. I swear by all I hold dear, it is."

Robin hadn't realized that he had spoken out loud until he heard those words from Martin. He shook his head. "You can't mean it. Why would I do such a thing? I don't even know this Marion of Leaford. Why would I give up all of this," he said, as he waved his hand to encompass the room, "to rescue someone I've never even met? There has to be some mistake. Perhaps this Robin Hood looks like me, or..."

Martin was shaking his head. "You know of Robin Hood, of course."

"Of course, he's..." Robin stopped and thought. He smiled as he said, "He's _dark_-haired and comes from Loxley. Right? Marion is his wife." The smile faded when he said, "Then, why didn't he and the other outlaws rescue her?"

"Loxley was killed three years ago. Don't you remember hearing about it? We even discussed it once."

Robin nodded. "I do remember now, yes. The Sheriff had him shot." 

"I just told you Marion came here two years ago after the King pardoned her. You seemed infatuated with her. That, and your sense of what's right, is why you rescued her."

Robin closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what might come next. 

"When you killed the Marcher Lord Owen of Clun, who the King was counting on to help him in his dispute with the Welsh, you had no choice but to stay in Sherwood. When the Sheriff found out it was you who was the new outlaw leader, there was no chance you could ever come home." Martin stopped for a moment to give Robin time to come to terms with what he had already heard. 

Martin knew how Robin was going to take what he had to say next. "It upset your father more than you know. He's convinced he's lost you for good. Every time he's told a messenger has arrived, he believes they might be coming to tell him you've been killed or captured, which would mean your execution." 

Robin still had trouble grasping the idea that he was an outlaw, living in the forest. But, worse was the idea that he had hurt and shamed his father. They hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but there was a deep love and respect between them.

Robin shook his head. "How could I have done that to him?"

"You did what you thought was right. You've helped a lot of people, people who would suffer without Robin Hood to defend them. Every day there seems to be another story about your adventures. I often find the servants here gossiping about you. You've become quite the hero."

"I don't want to be a hero, Martin. I just want to live my life here the way I've been raised---to one day be the Earl of Huntingdon. My father has pounded that into my head as long as I can remember. So have you."

"Yes. But, Robert, our destiny doesn't always turn out to be the one we plan on. I was supposed to take over my father's farm. I hated it and ran away. I landed here, worked my way up to steward, and now, I've been here for over twenty years. Life can sometimes take us in unusual directions." Martin regarded Robin with a sympathetic smile. 

Robin looked at Martin, his face still a mask of confusion. "But, an _outlaw_? That's so incredible." Robin snapped his fingers. "That's it, then."

"What?"

"These clothes. Jeffery said I was wearing them when he found me. I thought at first they were his. He also said I had this sword. I'm sure I've never seen it before."

When Robin pulled the sword out of its scabbard, Martin nodded. "Albion. Yes, there are stories about that, too. It's one of the Seven Swords of Wayland. It's supposed to have magical powers."

Robin stared at the sword. "This is magical?"

"So the stories go. Like everyone else, I know only what I hear."

Robin held Albion up for a minute, studying the runes. "Do you know what these mean?"

"No," Martin shook his head. "I have no idea."

Robin set Albion gently on the table in front of him. "I thought when I woke up at Jeffery's, these clothes and this sword were confusing. It was nothing compared to what you've just told me about my life now. It's still so unbelievable."

"You have a lot to think about, Robert. Why don't you go to your room and try to rest." 

"I don't think resting is going to help any." Robin took a deep breath. "I wish my father was here. Although, after what you've told me, I doubt he'd want to see me."

"You're wrong, Robert. What you became did shame him, though the rest of the nobility sympathized with him rather than condemned him. He hated that you turned your back on Huntingdon and your future here, but he's never stopped loving you. If he were here now, he would tell you that himself. I also suspect, in his own way, he's proud of you."

Robin had a wistful look on his face. Martin spent more time with the Earl than anyone else. So, if Martin said it was true, it was. He stood up and walked around the table. This time he did hug Martin. "I'll take your advice and try to get some rest. Thank you, Martin."

Robin headed toward the door. Martin called after him. "Robert, you forgot Albion."

Robin turned back and took the offered sword. No more words passed between him and the steward. There really was nothing else to say at this point. 

Robin made the long journey through the castle to his room. Someone had already lit the candles that sat on his dresser and bedside table, bathing the room in soft golden glow. He stood in the doorway and looked around the room. He had the same feeling now he had when he first arrived: that of returning after a long absence. It brought home to him the truth of all that Martin had told him.

He had put Albion in his scabbard on his way up here, and now he took the scabbard belt off and looped it over the back of the chair that sat in the corner near the large wardrobe. Then, he sat down on the side of his bed for a minute before lying down and starting at the high ceiling.

He had grown up in this room. It was more familiar to him than any place else on earth. Yet, something wasn't right. He knew now that it was because he called another place home---Sherwood Forest, according to Martin. How could he possibly trade this large, comfortable bed for one on the cold ground? How could he trade being waited on hand and foot for having to forage for whatever food he could manage to catch? How could he trade a secure life of privilege for one as a hunted outlaw? How could...? He closed his eyes. There were so many comparisons he could make. It came down to one question: How could he have done any of it?

But, it was inescapable that he had. He had done all those things, as well as hurt his father. All for a woman he couldn't even remember. There was more to it than just Marion. He understood that rescuing Marion had just been the beginning. What else was there that would cause such a change in his life? He had always hated the injustices and poverty he had seen all around him. Was that enough to make him leave everything he had always known and take up a life helping strangers?

No matter how many questions he asked himself, he couldn't get around the fact that he had done it. He was now Robin Hood, the man he had heard about but barely took notice of when Loxley wore that name. "I'm Robin Hood," he said aloud. "Me, Robert of Huntingdon. I'm...Robin...Hood." No matter how many times he said it, he still felt that he was talking about someone else.

Try as he might, he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember living in Sherwood, or the men he was reported to lead, or Marion. He had no memory of any of it. How could he forget the last two years of his life so completely? Unconsciously, he turned his head and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. The lump was a lot smaller. "That must have been some blow," he reasoned.

* * * * * * * * * *

While Robin lay in his room and puzzled over his identity, his friends were eating their dinner at the campsite they had established where they would spend the night. At that moment, no less doubt pervaded here than in Robin's room.

"We'll arrive at Huntingdon Castle tomorrow," John was saying.

"I don't understand why Robin would go back there," Tuck asked. "Surely, he knows we're worried about him by now."

"Maybe, he's too hurt to tell anybody anything," Will pointed out. He didn't want to say it out loud, but he knew things had gotten far beyond trying to pretend nothing bad was wrong.

Tuck sighed. "Aye, I'm beginning to think you may be right."

"How would anyone know he came from Huntingdon? If he could talk, he'd have told them to take him to Sherwood." It made perfect sense to Much.

"Unless he needs more help than he could get there," Nasir offered.

"Or, maybe it's someone from Huntingdon, who knows him," John said.

"The people in the wagon aren't from Huntingdon, They live in Ashton, remember?" Will smiled triumphantly. He was proud he had thought of that bit of information.

John and Tuck both nodded as the memory came to them. 

No one knew what was really going on and more speculation wasn't going to get them anywhere. The rest of dinner was spent in virtual silence. Tomorrow there would be answers---they hoped.

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin was deep in thought when he heard a knock at his door. He sat up. "Come in," he called.

Martin entered. "Robert, it's been over two hours. I think your friends may be wondering where you are."

"I know. I just don't know what to say to them. Jeffery will think I'm crazy."

"He doesn't seem to be the kind of man to believe that of you," Martin assured Robin, who wasn't assured at all.

"How can I explain it to him when I still don't understand it myself?" He looked up at Martin. "Two years of my life---just gone. What if I never remember them?"

As much as Martin wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience, tell Robin he would get his memory back. He could only hope. "You have to believe everything will turn out as it should." That was the best he could do to encourage the still-confused young man.

Robin nodded as he got up. "I should change. Take Jeffery and Aggie to the Sword Room. I'll be there shortly."

Martin left and was soon knocking on Jeffery's door to inform him of Robin's request.

Ten minutes later, Robin entered a moderately large room, whose walls contained crossed swords of all types, old and new. There were Norman and Saxon blades, as well as Spanish and French, and two were the curved Scimitars of the East, brought back from the last Crusade and presented to the Earl as a gift. 

Jeffery smiled as Robin entered the room. "I see where this room gets its name."

"Yes, it _is_ rather obvious, isn't it?" Robin looked around. "Where's Aggie?"

"She's a hardy girl, but all the traveling we've done the last couple of days has tired her out. I thought it best she get a good night's sleep before we start home tomorrow."

"I would love for you to stay a few days. You're certainly more than welcome to all that my home has to offer." Robin's invitation held a slightly pleading tone.

"Thank you, Robert. That would be very nice, but we have to get back. I told you about the family whose house burned. Their new one will be finished day after tomorrow, and they'll be needing our old furniture. Besides, I need to get the next crop in the ground while the weather is still good."

"I could send some people to take care of both the furniture and the planting for you while you and Aggie are here. I owe you so much, and you don't seem to want me to repay you."

"I don't. I told you that seeing you recover is payment enough. As for planting my field, I've done it all my life. I really like working the land myself. Aggie is all the help I need." Jeffery hated to turn Robin down yet again, because he knew how much Robin wanted to give them something to say thank you.

Robin turned and looked up at the Normal swords that sat above the large fireplace, which was roaring brightly. When he turned back around, he caught Jeffery looking at him curiously. Robin sighed. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking. The subject couldn't be ignored any longer. "You're wondering what's going on with me, aren't you?"

"It's not my place to question you, Robert. But, I have to be honest. I am curious. Martin made it sound like _you_ are Robin Hood. Is that true?"

"So he tells me. Martin helped raise me, and he's never lied to me---not once. He says I've been living as Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest for the past two years. I don't remember the other outlaws I lived with. I don't remember the things I did there. I don't remember any of it. How strange is that?" Robin shook his head.

"It would explain a lot: like your being in Sherwood when we found you, your clothes, the sword Albion, the stares of all the people here when we arrived." Jeffery smiled compassionately at Robin's obvious perplexity. "As I've said before, you did take quite a blow on your head. Maybe, it'll all come back to you when you've fully recovered."

"I'm mended well enough. It shouldn't keep me from remembering the things I've forgotten. It's frightening to think I may never get my memory back." Robin sat down in one of the large cushioned oak chairs near the fire. He stared into the flames as if seeking an answer there. He suddenly jerked.

"Robert, what is it?" Jeffery asked with concern.

After a moment, Robin said, "The fire. I saw myself drinking from a golden goblet. I was wearing the clothes you found me in. It was only a flash, but it seemed so familiar somehow. And, there's something about a cave."

"Did you see yourself in a cave?"

"No, just the word cave came to mind. Something mystical. I'm not sure. It was so odd." Robin physically shook himself. "Let's just forget all of this for now. I don't have any answers, and it isn't fair to take up our time together talking about something I can't explain."

With that statement, Robin and Jeffery spent the next hour and a half talking about Jeffery's farm and his early life in Ashton. They also talked about his wife and how blessed Jeffery felt having Aggie after having lost two sons when they were very young. Robin told Jeffery a little about his childhood here at Huntingdon.

Jeffery finally reminded Robin he wanted to get an early start the next morning. Robin tried one more time to talk him into staying a few days, but the man was adamant about needing to get back home. So, reluctantly, the two men went upstairs and parted company as each went to his own room. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin, Jeffery and Aggie ate a sumptuous breakfast, during which Aggie asked Robin all the questions she hadn't yet asked him. The Earl's son and the farmer's daughter were having a wonderful time. Then, Jeffery was forced to remind them he and Aggie needed to get started for home. The reminder brought groans. Robin, in deference to Jeffery's decision to leave, didn't ask again for them to stay. He didn't want his friend to feel trapped by asking it in front of Aggie.

Reluctantly, they made their way to the castle's main entrance. James, the stable boy, had Lancelot and the wagon waiting for them. A servant girl handed Robin a sack of food that had been prepared for Jeffery and Aggie's lunch as they traveled. There was also enough for dinner so neither would have to cook after their long journey.

Robin hugged Aggie. "Both of you have a good, safe journey home."

Aggie held Robin tightly. "I'll miss you, Robert." She smiled as she let him go and looked up at his handsome face. "Will you come visit us some time?"

"That's a promise, Aggie. I can't say for sure when, but I'll definitely see you again." Robin turned to her father. "Jeffery, I could thank you for the next hundred years and not do justice to what you've done for me. I know my father will be sorry he missed meeting both of you."

"Just stay well, Robert, and don't worry about your memory. I have the feeling it'll all work out." The two men shook hands warmly. 

Jeffery got up on the wagon seat just as James helped Aggie up on the other side. As Lancelot was urged forward and the wagon headed for the bridge, Aggie turned and waved to Robin, who lifted his hand in an answering wave.

Martin was watching from the doorway. He wanted to call Robin to come in before he was observed by even more people than the day before. But, he knew it was far too late for that. Everyone in the castle knew Robin was there. And, worse, they knew exactly who his alternate identity was. Martin just wanted to protect Robin, so he was relieved when the young man turned and re-entered the castle.

Once they were inside, Martin put his hand on Robin's shoulder. It pained him greatly to have to say the words he was about to utter. "You can't stay here, Robert. I trust the people that work for your father, but there are a lot of others who come and go here, and any one of them could get it in his head to report your presence to the Sheriff for the reward. Even someone who might agree with what you do in helping people could turn you in. It's more money than most of them will ever see in their whole lifetime. It's much too tempting."

"Where would I go?" Robin asked. 

"Sherwood," Martin answered simply. The answer seemed obvious to him, though he refrained from saying 'of course'.

"I don't know Sherwood, not anymore, at least. I don't know the people there."

"No, but they know you. They're your friends, and they'll be eager to help you. Who knows, once you get back to the forest and see them, you may remember everything you've forgotten."

"I can't leave without seeing my father," Robin protested. "You said he still loves me. I have to be sure I haven't hurt him beyond repair." Robin looked up at the large portrait of the Earl hanging in the main hall. It had been painted four years earlier. "I can't leave until he comes home."

Martin hated to bring it up, but he had to try and reason with Robin. "If you're caught here, he'll be sent to prison for harboring an outlaw, even if he hadn't known you were here. You know how vindictive King John can be. Robin Hood has embarrassed him. He would be happy to blame your father and then with him stripped of his title and you executed, the King would get the Huntingdon fortune and all of its lands and holdings."

Robin's shoulders slumped. He knew the truth of what Martin was saying. No matter how much he wanted to see and talk to his father, he couldn't risk Huntingdon or the Earl's life. "You're right, Martin, as usual," Robin said somberly. "I have to leave." 

Without another word, Robin headed up to his room. When he emerged a short while later and came back downstairs, he was wearing the clothes he had arrived in. However, it was another sword that was in place on his left hip.

Martin was waiting for him, still standing in the same spot where Robin had left him. Martin took note of what Robin was wearing. He also glanced down at the sword.

Robin saw the glance. "I left Albion on my bed," he said. "If anyone from Sherwood comes looking for me, you can give it back."

"But, Albion is _your_ sword," Martin told him.

"No. Albion belongs to Robin Hood. I'm not that person anymore. Whoever becomes the next Hooded Man should have it."

"So, you aren't going back to Sherwood."

"I don't belong there, Martin. I know nothing about being Robin Hood or any other outlaw. Those people who followed him will be better off without me. They need a leader who knows what he's doing."

The steward disagreed but knew Robin's well-known stubborn streak was firmly in place. Arguing would do no good. So instead, he asked, "Where will you go?"

"Scotland. My uncle is the King there, after all. He and I were close when I was growing up. He'll accept me. And, he can protect me from King John, if need be."

"Yes, that's a good idea. It will sure ease your father's mind. You must be careful until you've left English soil. There are a lot of people who'll be glad to collect that reward."

"That's why I'm wearing these clothes." Robin winked.

Martin smiled as he turned and picked up a sack that was sitting in the corner. He turned toward Robin. "Food for the road. I had it prepared at the same time as Jeffery's. I took the liberty of having some of your clothes packed. They're on your horse. He's waiting at the main entrance. I thought it best that the most people possible see you leave. If someone does turn you in, no one can say you're being hidden here."

"Martin, you're amazing. You knew I'd see the logic of leaving and prepared for it. How on earth would my father ever get along without you?"

The older man smiled. "He's easy to work for, and his son has been a treasure." 

Robin hugged Martin warmly and was rewarded with an even tighter hug from the steward. He patted Robin's back and then let go. "Keep safe, Robert. And, come back to us one day."

Not trusting his voice, Robin nodded and turned toward the entrance. He walked quickly out the door to his horse. He tied the food sack to his saddle next to the bundle of clothes and then swung up on the horse's back. He smiled down at James, who had been holding the bridle. "Farewell, James," Robin said as he spurred the gray stallion through the courtyard and galloped across the bridge. 

The young stable boy watched until Robin and his horse were nothing but a speck on the horizon. Then, he turned back to his duties, not knowing if he would ever see the Earl's son again, just as Robin was wondering if he would ever see his home again.

Continued --


	4. Chapter Four

MEMORIES by White Wolf

Chapter Four

An hour after Robin had left, the five outlaws of Sherwood walked across the bridge at Huntingdon Castle. A soldier moved from the shadowed interior of the archway. "What's your business here?"

John stepped forward. He could easily have gotten close enough to the soldier to tower over him, but putting the man on the defensive might well work against them, so he stopped several feet away. "We've come to see..." he almost said Robin Hood. Instead he said, "Robert Huntingdon."

The soldier looked the five men up and down. "You've business with him?" His tone was ripe with doubt.

"Yes," Tuck replied. He moved past John, believing he would be the most non-threatening of the five. "May we see him?"

"He's not here," the soldier replied curtly.

Thinking the soldier might just be trying to keep unkempt strangers from bothering the Earl's son, especially if he was hurt, Tuck continued, "It's important we talk to him."

"Look," Will began impatiently, to the consternation of the others, "he won't be happy if you turn us away. We're friends of his." 

The soldier clearly wasn't sure what he should do. Ordinarily, he would have scoffed at the notion that these people were friends of the Earl's son. But, he knew who Robin was, knew he ran with outlaw peasants in Sherwood. What if they really were his friends? Finally, deciding to err on the side of caution, he turned to another soldier and whispered in his ear. The second soldier ran off toward the castle entrance. He was soon out of sight, so the outlaws weren't sure just what he was doing.

There were several minutes of awkward silence before the second soldier returned and whispered back to the first one, who nodded and motioned the five outlaws to follow him. He led them into the courtyard and pointed toward the stairs by the main entrance.

They headed that way, and when they reached the steps, a man came out to greet them. "I'm Martin, the Huntingdon steward. I've been told you claim to be friends of Robert's."

Before anyone else could answer, Will piped up, "We don't just _claim _it. We _are_ friends of his." 

"From Sherwood?" Martin asked. He knew the answer, of course. He had heard these outlaws described in the stories and knew each one of these men fit the descriptions given, including the surly Scarlet.

Tuck confirmed the question. "Yes, we're from Sherwood."

"Come inside," Marin told them and turned to lead the way into the castle.

Only Nasir didn't show any reaction to the well-appointed castle. He did, however, admire Robin's home. 

Will couldn't help but let out a whistle. "Gave all this up, did he?" John hit him on the shoulder to remind him of his manners, not that Will Scarlet had that many to begin with. He pretty much said whatever he pleased, whether it was considered rude or not.

Martin couldn't keep the sadness out of his voice as he informed the group, "Robert---your Robin---is gone," He now had their full attention.

John groaned, "_No_." He completely misunderstood Martin's comment. Tears were welling in his eyes as he turned away.

Total shock was registered on the faces of Will, Nasir and Tuck.

Much, too, had tears in his eyes as he reacted to Martin's words. "Robin can't be dead," he said, totally crest-fallen.

Martin suddenly realized what these men thought. "No. No. He isn't dead. He's left Huntingdon. I'm sorry you thought I meant..." His apology hung in the air unfinished.

It took John a moment to turn back around to face his friends and Martin. 

Martin smiled. "You must care about him very much. I'm glad. He's a good person and deserves to have true friends like that. I've heard the stories, of course. I imagine you have to be very close to live the way you do."

"Has Robin gone back to Sherwood?" John asked, his voice not quite back to normal. He had to cough to clear his throat. It was trying to seize up on him.

"No. He's gone to Scotland."

"_Scotland?_" Will wailed. "Why would he go _there_? Don't he know we've been looking for him for two days?"

Martin sighed. "You'd better come with me. I have a tale to tell, and I don't think you're going to like it very much."

For the second time in as many days, the Huntingdon steward explained all he knew about the whole situation. This time he was able to add the part Jeffery and Aggie had played in it. He watched as he saw the five faces in front of him begin to crumble---well, four faces. The man Martin knew to be Nasir showed no outward emotion. His eyes, though, told a different story. Most people couldn't read the Saracen's eyes. Martin was good at judging people and intentions that way. He had often known when Robin was up to mischief by reading what he saw in the bright blue eyes of the fair-haired boy. The simple truth was: Nasir was as forlorn as his friends were. 

"He doesn't know us at all?" John questioned, unable to believe the absolute blank Robin's last two years with them had become.

"All he knows are the stories of Loxley that we all know. He doesn't actually remember living as Robin Hood himself. I'm sorry. I know this must be difficult for all of you."

"He doesn't even remember Marion?" Much asked. He found it hard to believe that Robin could forget the woman he had so completely given his heart to. 

Martin simply shook his head. "He's on his way to Scotland, because he doesn't want to endanger his father by staying here. The Earl's away, and Robert left without seeing him, though he badly wanted to." Martin watched these men closely. "I hope you know he hasn't left you because he doesn't care what happens to you. I'm sure you know what a good heart he has. He thinks you'll be better off with someone, in his words, 'who knows what he's doing'. He cares. He just doesn't remember."

"So, I guess that's it, then. It's done," Will declared with finality. He sounded disgusted.

John stared down at Will. "You sound like you're just giving up on him," the big man said angrily.

"We can't catch him, if he's on horseback," Will shot back just as angrily. "Besides, there's no way to know if he'll get his memory back even if we _did_ manage to find him."

The two men glared at each other.

"If you want to go back to Sherwood and forget Robin, then go ahead. I sure won't try to stop you," John argued. "I'm going to find him if I have to search every inch of that God forsaken country."

Martin wasn't surprised at the exchange. He realized these men were arguing out of fear. "He'll be at the Scottish court," he informed them. "His uncle is the King of Scotland, but I'm sure you know that."

"Of course, we know that!'" Will said sharply. He was angry with himself for making it sound like he had been thinking of just forgetting about Robin as if he really was dead. 

Nasir stood up. "Can you provide us with horses? If so, we can catch Robin before he reaches the Scottish border." There was pure confidence in his tone. He had no doubts that he spoke the truth.

"Yes, of course. Next to the King, Huntingdon has the finest horses in England," Martin said. The Earl took great pains to breed only the best stock he could acquire, and with his fortune, he could buy just about whatever he wanted. 'Everything but the freedom of his son', Martin sighed to himself. He stood up. "Come with me. Robert travels fast. You'll need to get started and move even faster."

While Martin went to see to the horses, the outlaws stood in the great hall. 

John was looking at the same painting of the Earl that Robin had looked at longingly just before he left. So many confusing thoughts were going through his mind. What if they caught up with Robin, and he didn't want to come back with them? 

John was startled out of his thoughts when he heard Much ask the exact same question. He couldn't answer it out loud any more than he could answer it in his own mind. The big man simply shook his head. What would they do if they lost Robin for good? 

"We'll just have to convince him, lad," Tuck said. He had a half-smile of encouragement on his face. He genuinely believed what he was saying.

"We will," Nasir said confidently as he started out the door, having seen the horses being brought up to the foot of the stairs. He met Martin as he was coming up the steps.

Three of the horses were sleek, high quality animals that looked like they could eat up the terrain in a hurry. The fourth was a little larger, though he looked fast as well. The fifth horse was big-boned and heavier than the others. While also of high quality, he was more suited to pulling loads than moving with any real speed.

Tuck sighed. He had accepted his size a long time ago, but now was one of the rare times he regretted it. He knew he'd never be able to keep up with the others. When John looked at him, the friar shrugged and said, "I'll follow the best I can." He knew catching up with Robin was more important than accommodating him.

Nasir had swung up on the back of a black stallion and was already heading toward the bridge. The Saracen also knew the importance of moving fast. When he had first seen the horses, he had quickly run a critical eye over them, deciding that the black was the one that would prove to be the swiftest. Nasir was every bit as good a horseman as Robin. He knew how to move at a fast pace, yet one that wouldn't run his mount into the ground. 

Nasir was barely visible in the distance by the time John, Will and Much had left the castle bridge and started down the road. 

Tuck had just mounted and was starting off, when Martin yelled for him to stop. The friar pulled up and waited until the steward caught up to him "Here. I almost forgot this." Martin handed Tuck a sword. It took only a second to see that the sword was Albion. "Robert left it to give to you, if you came looking for him. He said it belongs with Robin Hood. I know that's him, even if he doesn't yet believe it." Martin gave the friar a knowing smile.

"I'll see he gets it," Tuck assured Martin. He was soon heading off after his friends and his leader.

"Now, we have to catch Nasir," Will griped as he spurred his horse on, beginning to pull away from John. 

"He won't wait," Much said as he flew by Will. Much, the smallest of the group, was determined to get to Robin, if not with Nasir, at least right behind him. 

It didn't take long for all the outlaws to become strung out along the road. John, despite his size, wasn't that far behind Will, who was trying desperately to catch Much. Tuck was able to move on the big horse better than he had hoped, so he managed to keep John in sight most of the time.

As Nasir expected, his horse ate up the ground rapidly. When he reached the top of a hill several miles along, the Saracen looked behind him. He saw Much and Will but couldn't see John or Tuck. He would've preferred that they all be together, but he wasn't going to wait. Once he found Robin, he could engage him in conversation long enough for the others to show up. He was sure they'd have a better chance convincing Robin to return, if they could talk to him as a group. First, he had to catch Robin.

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin had been moving at a steady gallop for the better part of the morning. He stopped and walked the gray stallion several times to rest them both. He was in no hurry to leave his homeland and enter his uncle's domain. He had been to Scotland a few times in his life. His father had insisted that the future Earl should not only be familiar with all the Huntingdon holdings, but that he visit each one. Several were located across the border. And, of course, he had visited his uncle.

Knowing it would take him several days to reach Edinburgh and thus not feeling the need to rush, Robin stopped near a stream and dismounted. It was past noon, and he was getting hungry. He watered his horse and then let him graze on the nearby grass while Robin sat on the ground and opened the sack of food Martin had given him. 

He shook his head and laughed when he saw all the food that had been provided. It was almost the same fare that he, Jeffery and Aggie had eaten the night before and looked to be enough to last a week. "There's only one of me, Martin," Robin said aloud, although he suspected it was the head cook that had done it. She had always had a soft spot for the golden-haired little boy who used to go the kitchen to sneak pastries left out to cool. She had always let him think he had made a clean getaway, when in fact, she had deliberately turned her back during the raids. He was grown before he found that out. Now, that memory brought a warm smile.

Robin found a plate, a bowl and a cup in among the food. After getting up and filling the cup with the clear, sweet water from the stream, he sat down to enjoy his lunch. "I hope I can get on my horse after all this." 

Robin laughed when the stallion raised his head and whinnied as if responding to the comment. "Don't worry, Storm, " Robin said to his four-legged companion, "I won't weigh you down---I hope." Then he laughed again when he realized the horse had already been carrying all that food on the saddle.

When Robin finished, he realized he had overdone it a bit. He was tempted to lie down and take a nap, but he was afraid he would end up sleeping the afternoon away. He wanted to stay the night in one of the Huntingdon manor houses that was located on the way to the border. No one had been notified he was coming, of course, but he knew the caretakers were always prepared for unexpected visits from the Earl and his son, or someone else the Earl was allowing to stay there. 

Robin sighed. He needed to get moving again. Still he didn't budge. He put his hand down and slowly pulled it back and forth across the grass. 'The green grass of England', he thought. It was going to be so hard to leave it all behind. He had left his father, his home and all too soon, he would be leaving his country. 

He closed his eyes but instead of picturing his father or Huntingdon, he saw the image of a forest. There were the figures of several people moving among the tress. He couldn't make out who they were or even what they looked like. He saw the flash of bright yellow as someone moved through a beam of sunlight. Was that him? Martin had told him that he was Robin Hood. He knew as that person, he had lived in Sherwood Forest. It was logical to assume that who he saw was himself and his men. The image faded.

Robin got up and shook himself. He didn't really remember any of his recent life, and now there was no need even to try. It, like everything else, would soon be in his past. Now was the time to look forward to his new life, one he would spend at the court of his uncle, the Scottish King.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two hours later, Robin crested a small hill and pulled up to give Storm a little breather. He looked back down the road he was traveling and spotted a lone horseman in the distance. As he watched, the man got rapidly closer. He was moving at a very fast pace. Robin had no way of knowing who the man was or why he was in such a hurry, so he decided that caution was the best course of action. He might not remember being an outlaw, but everyone else knew he was. It would be prudent to make himself scarce.

He headed down the opposite side of the hill. There was a small grove of trees half a mile ahead. He made for it at a dead run. He wanted to get there before the rider behind him reached the top of the hill. 

As he entered the trees, he spotted the rider's head just appearing above the line of the hilltop. Robin left the road and made his way deeper into the trees. The grove didn't have much underbrush to use as cover. Since he never lost sight of the road, he would remain hidden only if the horseman didn't look too closely in his direction.

When the man entered the grove, he slowed down. He began walking his horse and staring at the ground. He was obviously looking for tracks. He was getting closer to the spot where Robin had left the road. It was then Robin decided to try to confront this man in black leather and discover who or what it was he was after. His opportunity came when the rider got down from his horse and began checking the ground at the edge of the road more closely.

Robin rode out of the trees. He had his sword out by the time he reached the road several yards in front of the man, who had to grip his horse's reins tightly as the startled animal jerked his head backwards.

The man stood up and, after briefly calming the frightened horse, held his hands in the air as Robin approached him and pointed the blade in his direction. "Who are you?"

"My name is Nasir," the Saracen said quietly. He waited to see if the name brought any sign of recognition from Robin.

Robin stared at him and then gave a slight nod of his head. 

"You know who I am," Nasir said. There was no hint of a question in his tone.

"Yes," Robin replied. "I know who you are."

The whole time Nasir kept his hands in plain sight. His dark eyes looked directly into Robin's blue ones. "Then, you know why I'm here." 

Robin nodded. "You think I'll remember who I was." He motioned with his sword for Nasir to put his hands down. "You've come a long way to find me."

"Not too long to find a friend," Nasir replied evenly.

Just then Much came riding up with Will in hot pursuit. 

"Robin!" Much called happily.

"You're a hard man to catch," Will said as he pulled his horse to a stop and took several deep breaths. "Martin said you traveled fast."

"You've been to Huntingdon and talked to Martin?" Robin asked. 

"We followed the wagon out of Sherwood to Ashton and then to Huntingdon," Much began to explain. "Martin said you don't remember us or being Robin Hood or Sherwood or..." he didn't finish. Instead he asked, "You really don't remember?" He was clearly mystified.

Robin put his sword back in its scabbard. By now, Much and Will had joined Nasir on the ground, with Will leaning heavily against his horse's side, breathing as hard as the animal. Robin remained mounted.

He was about to answer Much's question when they heard a horse approaching. They all turned to see John riding hard. He pulled his lather-flecked mount to a stop and got down. There was a big grin on his face.

"Tuck?" Will asked.

"Coming," John replied. He also took several deep breaths. "I haven't ridden that far that fast in my whole life. I may never walk straight again."

Robin couldn't help but smile at the remark. "I see you all have some of Huntingdon's finest horses."

"Compliments of Martin," Will told him. "That's quite a steward you have there."

"That he is. Huntingdon wouldn't be the same without him." 

Tuck was the last of the outlaws to join the group that was standing in the middle of the road. "Blessed be. I never want to make a trip like _that_ again." He climbed down. "I don't know who's more spent, him or me." He gave the exhausted horse an appreciative pat on the neck as he passed it to join his friends. 

Robin looked up the road but saw no one else heading in their direction. "Isn't Marion coming, too?"

John, Will and Tuck exchanged glances. Finally, John replied, "Marion left us and went to Halstead Priory."

"She's a _nun_?" Robin asked. He didn't sound upset, just surprised.

Tuck nodded. "Last Fall."

"Oh," was Robin's only comment on that subject. He faced the five men who had come all the way from Sherwood to find him. There was no reason to put off the discussion he knew was unavoidable. He dismounted. "Tell me exactly what you want from me." 

"We want you back," John replied with his simple, honest answer. 

"If you talked to Martin, you know I don't remember being Robin Hood, and I'm sorry to say, I don't remember any of you, either."

"We found that out," Will said, sounding calmer than he felt. 

"Then why do you want me back? I can't be the leader I've been told I was. I don't know anything about living in the forest or outwitting the Sheriff or any of the other things I've been told I did."

John looked Robin in the eye. "You didn't know the forest when you first came to us two years ago. We taught you then, we can teach you now."

"As for the Sheriff," Tuck added, "anyone can outwit _him_."

"But, so much has happened in the last two years..."

Before Robin could finish resisting, Tuck said, "We can tell you everything you need to know."

Will piped up, "We can also tell you who everyone is. You may not remember all of them, but you'd know who they are." He was trying hard to be encouraging. Despite all the arguments Will had started with Robin and all the challenges, he knew how important this man was to him, and he wanted him back as much as any of the others did.

"I was going to Scotland to be with my uncle. He's the King there. I think you'd all be better off, if I keep going that way."

"You're wrong, Robin," Much protested. "We need you. If you don't come back with us, we won't know what to do."

"I hardly believe _that_," Robin replied almost scoffing. He looked closely at the faces of the men standing before him, and he saw reflected there the seriousness of Much's words. "Really?" he asked.

Much and John nodded. "We do need you, Robin," John said simply. "We have to have a leader, and we've come to respect you as that. We've also come to love you as a friend," the big man added. There was no embarrassment in admitting love for this young man.

Robin was touched. Hearing John say those words stirred something in his heart. Yet, he knew he couldn't make a snap decision. "I have to think about this." Robin turned and walked down the road in the direction he had been traveling since he left Huntingdon. As he passed his horse, the stallion began to follow him. 

They had all stopped near the far end of the grove, and when Robin reached the edge of the trees, he was able to see across the open land. He stopped and stood staring ahead. Storm came up behind him and put his nose down on Robin's shoulder. Robin reached up and rubbed the velvet muzzle. "What do I do?" he whispered, as if asking the animal for an answer.

Robin knew if he continued forward, he would have a life at the Scottish court, safe and secure as the nephew of the King. If he turned back, he would resume an unfamiliar life as a hunted outlaw, his future uncertain. He looked north. Where did his future truly lie---Sherwood or Scotland?

Several yards behind Robin, Will sighed. "Well there's one good thing I can think of in this whole mess," he commented.

"What?" John asked, totally puzzled as to what could possibly be good in a situation like this.

"He doesn't remember missing Marion," Will explained. "He doesn't hurt anymore over her leaving him."

"I think he'd rather have his memories back no matter how painful some of them are," said Tuck. "You don't want to forget Elena, do you?"

Will almost bristled at the mention of his dead wife, but he had to agree with what the friar was saying. As painful as her murder had been, he couldn't imagine not remembering her or their brief life together. He shook his head. "No," he replied softly.

Robin closed his eyes as he felt five pairs of eyes boring into his back. Then, unbidden, the thought came to him of the time he had heard of Loxley's death. He thought of how Herne had called him to be his new son. How strange that he had forgotten that, even though it had happened three years earlier and was not part of the missing two years. 

Despite the desire he had felt to right the wrongs he saw all around him, he had refused the forest god's call, believing at the time that no one else could possibly be the Hooded Man. Evidently he had changed his mind a year later. "Herne, can you help me get my memory back, or is it beyond even your power?" 

Robin continued to stroke the gray stallion's muzzle as his brain tried to sort through the dilemma. The words, '**Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten**', whispered in his mind. 'But, I _have_ forgotten', Robin answered. '**Listen to your heart,**' came the reply. Then, in an instant, he knew what he would do---what he _must_ do.

He turned and walked back to the men who called him leader and friend. They all tried to read his expression but couldn't, so they waited, anxious about hearing the words that could change their lives. 

Robin smiled and nodded. "All right, I'll go back to Sherwood with you."

The outlaws excitedly shook his hand and clapped him on the back. They shook each other's hands, as well. John couldn't help himself, he gave Robin a big bear hug. Their smiles couldn't have been any bigger. Robin had told them the one thing they wanted most in all the world to hear: Robin Hood would return to Sherwood Forest. 

Robin was happy to see how overjoyed they all were. He now truly understood for the first time how much they really did care for him. He knew he had made the right decision. 

Tuck pulled Albion out of his belt and handed it to Robin. "This belongs to you."

Robin took the sword and held it up in front of him, again admiring its beauty and balance. "What do these runes mean?"

"**Herne's son is my master. I cannot slay him**," Tuck answered.

Robin nodded. There was no doubt in his mind that Martin was responsible for seeing that Albion was returned to him. Martin had believed that Robin would be found and would eventually make the decision to go back to Sherwood with his friends, whether his memory was restored or not. 

Robin pulled out the sword he had left Huntingdon with and handed it to the friar. He then put Albion's tip in the scabbard opening and pushed the blade home.

Even amid the joy the group was reveling in, Robin felt compelled to give them one note of caution. "You realize I may never get back my memories with you."

"Well then," Will replied with a smile, "we'll just make new memories." 

~End~


End file.
